I hate weakness. I hate it even more to be called weak because I was female. But it wasn’t always this way.
As a Saiyan, strength was everything. There was no “mind over matter” mentality anywhere. If you were strong, you gained respect, and if you were weak, you did not. And early in life I did not recieve respect.
I couldn’t exactly tell what it was. Perhaps it was my indifference to bullying at my young age that just stopped me from fighting back, but I took abuse like a door mat on a muddy day. I have been beaten, battered, held underwater against my will, shot with various blasts of energy, and more, all because I wouldn’t fight back. I would rather train by myself, but because of that I would always become weaker than children my age. Yet as I was battered and beaten, I felt something form in the pit of my stomach.
“Hey, short stuff!”
The hairs at the back of my neck stood up at the familiar voice. I was already anticipating the punishment I was going to receive. I stayed silent as I continued to practice my form.
Suddenly, I was yanked backwards by my hair, and I cried out at the shocking pain in my scalp. I was forcibly turned around, then shoved away by the kid. “Are you going to fight me? Or are you gonna take it again like a weakling?”
I could feel the pit in my stomach grow larger. The tension felt reminiscent of a pot that was seconds from spilling over. I stayed silent again, my eyes glued to the ground.
The boys laughed at my silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. What a girl!” The boy who yanked on my hair raised his open palm, preparing to smack me. Before I knew it, I had grabbed the boy’s wrist as he attempted to smack me. His expression was one of pure shock, and as he failed to take his hand from my grasp, it turned to fear.
To this day, I dream of that face. But as of that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make his face unrecognizable.
I turned my body, using the speed of my rotation to throw the boy over my body, slamming him on to his back. I then kicked the boy’s face as hard as I could, as much as I could, his attempts to cover his face futile as I left him in a bloody heap behind me.
I looked towards the boy’s gang with a gaze that spoke of death.
“Every one of you. Fight.”
And that’s what they did, their faces turned from arrogance to respect. And to this day, no matter who the person was, I would not accept anything less.